Chapter Text
“You have been chosen,” the words rang out clear over the tense air and tired bodies, “Voltron needs you.” Allura’s pause emphasizes her true meaning, “The universe needs you.”
Pidge, Lance and Hunk share an uncomfortable and nervous glance. Only Shiro speaks up, “We understand that, Princess, but we only have three lions.”
This was all a lot to take in and they were tired after the repeated incidents with the whole escaping imprisonment, finding the Blue Lion, entering a wormhole after being chased by an alien spacecraft, getting taken away from Earth to an alien planet and being told by more aliens that you were the chosen ones meant to save the universe-- and then having to go gather more super weapons to create an even bigger super weapon called Voltron? Yeah, it was a lot and they were all very tired and still very confused.
Shiro was pretty sure the shock had drained all emotion out of them aside from mild irritation and anxiety.
Coran whom had been standing dutifully by Allura’s side chimes in with a twirl of his glorious orange mustache, “Technically we have four lions if you count Black beneath the castle!”
“But we can’t get to it,” Shiro argues.
“We can,” Allura offers confidently but then she hesitates, “If we can find the Red Lion and its Pilot.”
Hunk who has been quiet with concern for the duration of the meeting looks at the Princess with more worry than their escape through a wormhole. “Didn’t you say the Red Lion was aboard a Galra ship? How are we going to get it back?”
“Uhh, aren’t you forgetting something?” Pidge waves a hand to grab their collective attention, “We don’t even know if Shiro is Red’s pilot. Even if we do manage to get in, there’s no guarantee it will accept him.”
“It will accept him,” Allura promises firmly, “If we can’t bring all five lions together, the universe is doomed. We have no other choice but to trust this.”
A solemn and worried silence fills the air again. It was a lot of responsibility that was being put on their shoulders. Young shoulders. Inexperienced shoulders.
“So what, we go in guns blazing-,” Lance jumps up to strike some poses after sensing the thickness of the air. “Swoop in, drop Shiro off- he grabs his lion and we rendezvous back at the castle? Easy-peazy.” Lance was always good at making light of a bad situation. Already, the air felt a bit more breathable.
“Afraid not,” Coran puts a slideshow on a wide projector screen they didn’t realize was even present, “The Galra ship Red is on is owned by a fearsome commander known as Sendak-”
“Sendak,” Shiro murmurs, “I… know him. I was a prisoner on his ship.”
Pidge’s fists clutch tight against the fabric of their shorts at the mention.
“He’s one of Zarkon’s most loyal and oldest subjects. Defeating him will not be easy- but we have three lions- maybe even four. After that he’ll be no match for us. The only problem is getting onto the ship.”
“I upgraded Green with cloaking. I can drop us off safely.”
Allura seems unsure, “That’s a wonderful idea, Pidge, but that would mean going in with one lion instead of three. I’m not sure it’ll be safe--”
“We can do it,” Shiro cuts in and all eyes are on him, “When can we leave?”
Pidge, Shiro and Lance were quiet as they cruised the stealthed Lion up to the ship. Shiro adjusts the red armor on his body. Allura said it was one size fits all, but he couldn’t help feel like it was a bit small on him. As they grew closer to the Galra ship Lance squeaks a small, “Maybe Hunk had the right idea staying in the castle...”
The intimidating mass of the dark ship finally took up the entire span of the screen and then with gentle accuracy, barely made a sound as the Green Lion’s claws met its belly.
They were inside in under a minute.
The trio stands in the violet lit hall, not a figure to be seen or a sound to be heard and yet Shiro felt his heartbeat through his ears. He’s been here before. He knows it. Feels it even, and every fiber in his being wanted him to get out and leave as fast as he could. Staring down the hall, a hall that stretched so far there was nothing but a black pit on the other side made him feel nauseous, like he was drugged again. He was almost too out of it to hear the bickering behind him.
“Pidge! What are you doing-,” Lance squawks as Pidge starts taking off alone.
For how small Pidge was their voice was louder than Lance’s, “To find my family! They were taken prisoner too, I’m not leaving them behind!”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed? You can’t just go alone!” Lance stops, baffled now, “Wait, family?”
“Commander Holt is my father.”
“Holy crow, are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious! And I’m going to get him and my brother back.”
So this was Commander Holt’s daughter. Shiro feels some guilt well up in him. He couldn’t protect them. He failed them and that realization hurt.
“Don’t go alone,” Shiro orders through the heavy feeling in his chest, “Lance go with Pidge.”
“But… what about you,” he asks. Pidge eyes them both with impatience.
Shiro takes a breath, “I’ve been through worse. I can find Red on my own.”
Lance seems reluctant. Scared. But Pidge has no time to wait around for him and as soon as she leaves he follows after giving Shiro one last look.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so stubborn in insisting that he could do this. He was starting to feel queasy again. This was all too familiar. The running. The hiding. He heard the metallic drumming of Galra droids walking nearby and sweat slickened his palms and dampened his neck.
No. He can do this. Just get the lion and get out.
The sound of a door opening draws his attention. He doesn’t see a figure but he does see what’s on the other side. The Red lion, shrouded in a shield in a giant empty hangar. This was it.
Shiro listened for any footsteps, waiting until the coast was clear before dashing for the door, opening it with his robotic arm. The hangar was huge. He ran to the particle barrier, pressing his hand to its unyielding shield but it did not open like it had for Lance. This wasn’t good in more ways than one. Shiro’s eyes darted around the room, checking for signs of life. He didn’t see anyone but something didn’t feel right.
Suddenly something cold pressed against his neck. The fear made his arm ache, how did they manage to sneak up behind him? He could see it from the corner of his eye. A black tinted blade and a purple light. Galra.
Shiro waited for them to speak, waited for them to cut him down. Anything, but they stayed silent and unmoving.
Sensing that this was his chance Shiro whirled on the Galra, metal arm coming to life with an equally purple fluorescent. The masked and hooded figure managed to block the attack, metal meeting metal ringing loud within the largely barren hangar, but the Galra was small. Much smaller than Shiro was expecting- and they slide a few feet away, dagger raised.
A vague familiarity begins creeping up more and more the longer he stares at them.
“You-,” Shiro begins to speak but the sound of the door opening again cuts his words short.
Galra pour in, guns raised and Shiro is forced to attack. He rushes forward, hand glowing and numb and it’s like instinct to fight them- muscle memory doing its work. At first he’s throwing punches and then before he realizes it his fist is a blade cutting through drones like warm butter. Arms, heads, sometimes even entire torsos go flying after a single cut. He’s working like a well oiled machine but the drones are relentless not in capacity, but out of sheer numbers. He could cut them down easily, but he was starting to get overwhelmed.
Sweat rolled down his jaw and brown eyes darted from drone to drone like a mad animal trying to calculate the odds. Twenty maybe? How was he going to get out of this one.
Wind rushed from behind, a force so strong it nearly knocked him to the floor. A deafening roar and a large paw swatted at the drones, splashing them across the cold floor in pieces. Its tail swept, gracefully avoiding Shiro amidst the mess to scatter the rest of them.
Even if it wasn’t his first time seeing it, the sight of a lion’s power always stunned him.
Red lowered its head, jaw opening and not waiting for Shiro to make a decision. The jaws closed around him. “Get back to the castle,” he yells on the coms, “Now!”
Blue lights up the mouth. Shiro begins making a dash towards the cockpit but the beast lunges and suddenly he’s being tossed around its maw like a ragdoll. He fights for something to grasp onto and only finds the edge of its mouth. He clutches to a tooth while metal scrapes and tears, muffled explosions sound somewhere outside. And then there’s nothing.
Was it over?
“You got the Red Lion?” Pidge asks him over the coms. She sounds out of breath but agitated.
Shiro stares at the Galra that walks through the door and into the mouth, still masked and hooded with purple blade in hand.
“Not… exactly,” Shiro replies with widening eyes as Red’s pilot approached.
Lance’s voice is loud, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The blade agent finds a crack to grasp onto and before Shiro fully understands what’s happening the jaws of the lion open and open space rushes to devour the air within with such ferocity that it pulls him out into nothingness.
Keith walked into his bedroom aboard the small Blade outpost feeling exhausted. The meeting took three hours while they argued, sorry, “discussed” what to do now that he was the Red Paladin.
He collapses into a firm bed, stifling a cough at its unwelcoming embrace and rolls over to stare at a blank ceiling.
So he lived after all.
A knock on the door interrupted his rest but as a woman walked through the door it was soon a welcome intrusion.
Krolia stood, arms crossed for a moment as she studied her son. She was quiet- both of them were like that. Not people who overshared or cared much about filling the empty air with empty words. After she got a feel for his current feelings she moves to sit beside him and he made room for her willingly.
“Keith,” she starts slowly while she thinks of how she wants to word things, things that were hard for her to bear, “If they- if you ever feel unwelcome there you’re always welcome to come back.”
“It’s my duty-”
“It’s not.” Her eyes were fierce and as firm as her tone. Her hand wraps around his, tight and warm. Comforting. “The Blades have existed for thousands of years without Voltron. They need you more than we need them. I don’t care what any of them say, this is your home. Your family.”
They were rare words that made his heart clench with warmth. The two of them were both stoic people, not easy to laugh or quick to hug but it was reminders like these that made their bond so strong. Krolia was strong but she was loving too and Keith knew she wouldn’t abandon him.
Keith sinks into her embrace, much softer than the bed despite the strength in it. His own arms found her too and while hugging her he whispers softly, “Thank you, Mom.”
Allura’s voice booms over the small group of people, “No- absolutely not!” Shiro tries to interject but is cut off by another venomous rejection. “If you think I’m allowing a filthy Galra to be the Red Paladin you better be joking.”
“We need Voltron,” Pidge argues much to Lance and Hunk’s obvious fear, “We need the Red Paladin for that or have you forgotten?”
“We can find a new Paladin,” Allura remains stubborn over this.
Hunk’s eyes shift from face to face but mostly on Allura’s. “I thought you said we couldn't? That the lion chooses you not the other way around-,” he shuts up when Allura’s glare falls on him.
Tension permeates the room and turns it into another silent space.
“We need Voltron if we’re going to win this war,” Shiro says finally. “I know you don’t like it Princess, but you’ll have to set aside your differences for the greater picture. I’m not the Red Paladin like you thought I was. We need them.”
Allura’s hands form into slender fists at her sides.
“Princess,” Coran tries softly, “I understand how you feel… But we can’t win this war with three lions...”
She didn’t like this. After all the Galra had done to her. To her planet- to her people? And they wanted her to just invite one into her home to be allies with? They took everything from her and now this. Her memories flit to her mother but most of all she remembers her father. Alfor was strong and charismatic. Red had been his lion. It wasn’t right that a Galra should pilot it when they were the ones who murdered him. But Shiro was right. They needed Voltron and for that they needed the rightful Paladin to play a part in it. The anger subsides into something sad in her eyes. It pains her to say it.
Her shoulders sink with a sigh. “How do we contact them,” she grits out in defeat.
“Looks like we won’t have to,” Pidge looks up from her scanner to show a small blip on a scan.
The Red Lion.
The room holds their breath for Allura’s reaction.
“Let him in,” she commands coldly.
Coran stood close to Allura with every intention to leap into action if the Galra made one false move- as did everyone else. Even if he had close to no fighting experience, he’d risk everything to protect her even if the princess was more capable than he was in that regard.
Shiro was the only one who seemed to welcome the masked man with any shred of trust. While the others stared, weapons raised like hackles on a dog, he moved to greet him.
“Thank you for coming,” he says, “I’m Shiro, and this is Hunk, Pidge, and Lance.” He points them out respectively before moving onto the more… troublesome greetings, “This is Coran and this is-”
“I am Princess Allura of planet Altea,” she announces in a harsh tone and chin raised high.
The Galra stayed quiet. Shiro couldn’t see where he was looking but he felt like they had been staring at him for a while now up until Allura’s introduction. After that he couldn’t tell where he was looking but he assumed it must have been her. But why wasn’t he saying anything?
“Are you going to say anything or not-,” Allura feels her anger rising but still there was no change in the pilot.
The Red Paladin stood still as stone, arms crossed examining the crew and their icy disposition and seemed… unthreatened but not eager to buddy up to them either. He didn’t even remove his hood or mask upon greeting.
“Are we certain this is a person and not like… a drone?” Lance starts inching closer to give him a look around but as soon as he lifts his hand as if to tap on their head the Galra turns to stare at him. A silent threat even without being able to see whatever expression he was wearing. Lance shrinks back to the safety of Hunk’s side.
“Not very friendly is he,” Pidge mutters.
“Now, now,” Shiro tries to settle everyone down, “Maybe our new friend just needs some time to adjust-”
Just as he says this, the Galra starts making his way towards the entrance of the Castle, weaving past the bodies much to Allura’s alarm.
“What are you doing,” she demands, “Where are you going? This is my Castle and you will answer me!”
Shiro stares in surprise as the man just keeps walking until he finds the living quarters. He’s about to open one of the rooms when Lance jumps from the crowd following him, “HEY! That’s my room! Get your own!” For how scared he was of the Galra earlier, he sure wasn’t now. He shoves right up between them and the door to secure possession of his room.
The Red Pilot stares before quietly moving down to another door. This time he waits, giving them all a short look, waiting to see if this one is taken or not. When there’s no protest he opens the door and walks in, leaving everyone stunned silent outside as the door shuts behind him.
“I can’t stand this,” Allura sinks into the couch with hands buried into her long mane of white curls, “It’s been days and he hasn’t said a single word to us! To anyone! How are we going to be a team if he can’t even bother to communicate with us?”
The group grumbles in unison.
Training had been rough the past couple of days. Shiro had been chosen as the Black Paladin, which was the first good news since coming here but their new “friend” rarely hung out with the others and when he did it was off against a wall, arms crossed, studying them like they were animals in a zoo. He didn’t even bother to wear the Paladin armor.
They didn’t know what he looked like, what he sounded like, not even his name.
Shiro rises to his feet, sensing that this was going to go nowhere if they were waiting on him to make the first move. “I’ll go talk to him,” he announces with a sigh.
It doesn’t take him long to find him. Since coming here it had become obvious that the Galra’s favorite room in the ship had been the training deck. Which was to be expected. The Galra were well known for their fighting prowess and stressed importance on strength.
Shiro watches him from the doorway. Quite agile that one. His dark eyes follow him maneuver around the training drone with an elegance he doubted Lance, Hunk, or Pidge could pull off. He was a seasoned fighter, anyone could see that. This was second nature to him, just like it was for Shiro. The only difference was that for Shiro it was out of necessity and less out of desire.
The Red Paladin cut down the drone and disabled the program to take a break. He found a place to sit against the wall and reached to grab his water but paused when he realized Shiro was there with him. He shifts, setting the bottle back down without drinking.
So he’d rather not drink than remove his mask with people present.
“Do you mind,” Shiro asks after approaching. When there’s no answer he sits a comfortable distance away from him. “You come here a lot,” he notes casually in his best attempt at being friendly and unthreatening.
Shiro feels a bit awkward with the other not answering but it was to be expected.
He tries again, “Thank you for jumping in during training the other day. When the training drone came at me… I don’t know why. I couldn’t react. That’s the second time you’ve saved me.”
No. He knew why he couldn’t react. It was obvious with the image that flashed in his head when it happened. These drones looked and acted similarly to the drones in the Galra ships. It felt like he was back on the ship for a split moment.
And it terrified him.
“The third time.”
The voice jars him from his thoughts and Shiro looks up in surprise at the man next to him. “What,” he asks more in disbelief that he had spoke rather than the meaning of the words.
The Galra gives a small but irritated sigh, “It’s the third time I’ve saved you.”
Shiro’s eyes stay wide, confused and in awe. There’s that familiarity again. He knows this person. He’s met them before-
“You just don’t remember because of the trauma and drugs,” the Galra says.
Shiro stares, with memories slowly coming back.
Everything around him is processed only through a haze. Above him a blinding light tinted in purple forces his gaze away. There’s something piercing his arm and in a moment of realization and panic, Shiro tries to pull away but the metal restraints keep him frozen and helpless under their work. “No, no! No,” pain and drugs threaten to pull him back down into a void of thoughtless slumber but he fights it, “You took my hand- What more do you want?”
Aqua drugs were being drained into his arm until the head medic stops the grunt with a slap to their hand, “Stop!” His voice commands but then it takes a darker tone as he turns his attention back to Shiro. The champion feels his blood run cold as the next few words spill from the Galra’s mouth, “I want him awake enough to feel this.”
Shiro is too busy staring in horror as his mind races through countless possibilities at what might happen to him in the very near future that he barely registers the whirr of the door opening. The cry from the grunt pulls his attention away from the medic to see a masked and hooded figure. Whoever it was took out the two grunts without much effort and rushed to the main medic’s side.
Warm fingers meet his jaw, pulling his sweaty face towards their direction but Shiro’s too out of it to truly register the feeling until the heat of their hand is gone.
He tries to open his eyes again. For a moment, Shiro can almost feel their gaze upon him. The two purple lights of their mask bore into him like small suns and there’s a hesitancy there- he can feel it despite the drugs coaxing him towards blackness again.
“Listen to me,” the medic speaks and Shiro can’t tell if it’s to him or the masked person, “We don’t have much time.” A slap to his face startles him from his near sleep and he sees the face of a Galra soldier telling him to wake up, “Zarkon has located the Blue Lion of Voltron on your planet, Earth.”
He doesn’t know what that means but it sobers him from the drug’s influence if only just a little.
“You must get it before he does,” he warns.
Shiro feels his restraints loosening and flickers his confused gaze between the Galra and the masked man. “What are you doing,” he isn’t sure why he’s being trusted with this of all things, he can hardly tell what’s going on at all let alone this.
“We’ve planted a bomb to cover your escape,” The medic speaks as calmly as he can while helping Shiro get up from the surgical table, “Get to a pod, now.”
“Who are you,” Shiro asks, desperate to know the name of the man saving him.
He relinquishes his name without a moment to waste, “I’m Ulaz. Now, come on!” The Galra medic hands him off to the masked man and that same, vague, hesitancy lingers there before they’re willing to touch Shiro.
Ulaz and the two head towards the door, scouting the hallway for signs of life while he continues to debrief Shiro on his sudden mission. “Zarkon will know what I released you,” he points out, “So I must disappear.” Yellow eyes turn to glance at the champion, “But, if you survive, go to the coordinates in your arm.”
Shiro glances down at the robotic arm, flexing his hand into a weakened fist as he struggles to absorb all of the information.
“The Blade of Marmora is with you,” Ulaz promises him while glancing towards their silent companion who only offered a firm nod in affirmation to Shiro as well.
He can’t help but ask but his voice is earnest and confused, “Why are you helping me?” It doesn’t seem real. After so much time being held prisoner, after all he’s been through, he’d never thought he’d have the chance to escape let alone rescued by these total strangers. Alien strangers.
Ulaz answers him. Sure and calm, “As a fighter and a leader, you give hope.”
A warm hand upon Shiro’s shoulder shakes him from his attention on Ulaz. When he turns, it’s the smaller Marmora member at his side, “Hurry. Earth needs you.”
The voice is younger than what Shiro had expected. Softer, even.
“We all do,” Ulaz reaffirms before running off down the hall and leaving him alone with the masked man.
It doesn’t take long for Shiro to understand why Ulaz had this man escort him. As he attempted to jog through the ship the drugs still coursing through his veins nearly knocked him out at the smallest movement. Everything was still blurry but the Blade agent guided him through the ever tilting and spinning maze of the ship with ease and strength he was sorely lacking at the moment.
When the rhythmical military steps from drones approached, he was there at his side immediately. Once again, the warmth of his gloved hand pressed to Shiro’s chest, urging him to stick to the wall as close as humanly possible until the footsteps extended out of range. The two pressed on but in Shiro’s haste and fear he knocked over a transport trolley, the sound of metal meeting metal echoing loudly down the spacious halls of the ship.
Shiro feels his stomach drop as soon as it rings out. He knows without needing to turn that it their cover had been blown. A robotic voice sounds, “Halt.”
“Run for it-,” his escort shouts and the two of them bolt for the escape pods. Shiro feels the sentry about to grab him and his body, trained by years in the arena, acts for him and tosses the body of metal into the floor. His eyes dart to find the second attacker but when he does he catches the tail end of his companion slicing the droid in half with a black blade. Briefly his mind marvels at the blade’s strength before its shape morphs into a dagger to be slipped into a sheath on his companion’s back.
“What are you waiting for,” they shout at him and Shiro realizes he’s been staring. A shrill beeping chirps shrill and ear piercing throughout the pod bay. Before he has time to react his escort tackles him into the pod throwing them both onto the unforgiving metal flooring of the foreign craft with a huff of pain and surprise. The doors shut just as Shiro hears an explosion decimate the pod bay and heat licks at his skin with a scorching gush of air. The sounds grows distant until finally the only thing he hears or feels is the quiet hum of the escape pod flying off into the blanket of black expanse.
Finally, the adrenaline dies and the drugs, without fear to hold them at bay, take hold of him and lure him to sleep.
He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep for but he can sense someone staring at him. It’s a primal instinct that alerts him of it. Without thinking it startles him and sends him into a slight panic as he sits upright with his fist bared, ready to fight.
“Relax,” the muffled voice of the Blade member attempts to soothe him, “Everything’s going to be alright.”
Shiro blinks and settles back against the side of the shuttle. This isn’t the prison ship and slowly the memories of his escape come back to him. It’s only now that he realizes that sometime during his sleep his masked companion had moved him to the cot and covered him in a thin blanket. “Thank you,” Shiro murmurs almost embarrassed but eternally grateful. Not just for the blanket but for helping him escape the prison ship.
If there wasn’t a mask covering their face Shiro would have been confident that their shift in demeanor hinted at a smile somewhere beneath its cover but they didn’t answer.
Admittedly, he wasn’t expecting his escort to be so quiet. He should have figured that out based on how rarely they spoke during their getaway but eventually Shiro seems to accept this awkward air by leaning his head back to rest his eyes. It’s a few minutes more until his companion speaks again.
“So you’re from Earth, huh?”
He’s not sure why that’s what he’s focused on of all things but Shiro nods with a small frown, “Yeah... Do you know it?”
“A little,” he admits to the Champion and that seems to make Shiro beam with sudden interest that’s soon crushed by the man’s next words, “I heard it’s primitive.”
“Primitive,” Shiro echoes as his shoulders slump. “Well, I’m sure to you it must be,” he resigns with a small chuckle, “Anything else?”
The man slowly folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “I don’t really know much else,” he says but there’s some hesitancy to it that catches Shiro’s attention. It makes him wonder if that was truly all there was to it.
“I’ll tell you more if you’d like,” Shiro offers with a gentle smile but before the Blade can answer he continues, “But first- I’d like to introduce myself.” He holds out his hand to him, mindful that it was his flesh and not the one made of metal.
Perhaps that was too forward? It takes the Blade a long decisive moment before he reaches to clasp Shiro’s forearm.
“You can call me Shiro if you’d like,” he says with some relief but the silence from the other man makes him wonder if the other was going to bother introducing himself.
“I’m-,” he pauses, “Yorak.”
Shiro’s eyebrows arch up high at the name but then he grins. This was good. This was progress.
The flight wasn’t nearly as long as what Shiro had been expecting but it had given him time with Yorak. Time to talk about Earth, to relax and to regain some of his lost humanity forgotten in his time spent as a prisoner and gladiator.
Yorak didn’t talk much but he seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to Shiro’s stories. Every time Shiro grew quiet after a little explanation, Yorak would urge him on with a quiet question or an oddly fond comment.
“Earth sounds nice,” Yorak noted once and Shiro wondered sheepishly if he had hyped it up too much. “Are you excited to go home,” the alien’s tone is a bit different but Shiro can’t quite put his finger on what exactly makes it different.
Not when he’s reminded of things he’d been trying not to think about- or at least things he wanted to think about but ultimately left a bitterness on his tongue.
“I don’t know,” Shiro admits to Yorak who’s left silent in surprise. Or at least he thinks as much without seeing the alien’s face. He continues, “It’s hard to think I’m finally going home.” What would he say? To Adam- to Iverson or Admiral Sanda. There was so much to say and so much he wanted to apologize for.
Shiro hadn’t said all of that but it must have shown on his face, all of the loose ties and all of the people waiting there because Yorak speaks again. “You’ll have time after you’ve safely reached the Blue Lion,” he reassures but it sounds military and a bit distant, “If you fail, Earth will be in danger.”
It turns out that Shiro did not in fact have time to think about it after reaching the blue lion.
Yorak had seen him off from a maze of canyons with a firm handshake clasped at the forearm. Shiro was about to thank him when there was a noise- voices from what sounded like teenagers bickering.
“Yes, I’m sure my calculations are correct,” snaps one. They sounded young.
The next one sounded scared or at least hesitant to be following this group, “Are we sure we want them to be correct? I don’t know about you Pidge, but investigating a UFO landing with nothing but the clothes on our backs doesn’t seem very safe to me-”
“Oh, cram it, Hunk,” Shiro thinks he might recall the voice. It’s familiar with the way the boy boasts, “What if the alien is like a smokin’ hot babe? You think I’m going to pass up an opportunity to be the first human she meets?”
“Quiet,” says the young one again, “We’re here.”
Shiro hears the engines of Yorak’s ship start and before he has a chance to say goodbye, the ship is gone and already leaving Earth’s atmosphere.
Shiro’s head turns just in time to see a trio rush forward with a black-haired boy in an orange bandana exclaiming in horror, “Did you just see that? Tell me I wasn’t the only one that saw that-”
“An alien ship,” the smallest breathes in awe.
Shiro tries to duck out of cover before they notice him but the boisterous one must have noticed. “Wait- I think I saw something-,” the sound of worn sneakers against dirt has Shiro scrambling to get deeper into the cave.
Shiro finds himself at a dead end though and he feels his eyes shut in defeat as the kids catch up.
“Who are you-,” shouts the little one. Surprisingly spunky for how small they were, “Show yourself!”
“Are you an alien-,” blurts the big one but when Shiro turns to face them, the trio gasp.
“I’m not an alien,” though the Galran prosthetic might raise some alarms.
He recognizes one is from the Garrison, Lance, steps forward with jaw hanging wide. “Holy crow, that’s Shiro! I thought you died on the Kerberos mission!”
There’s an onslaught of questions and commentary from the trio. Everything from, “Where have you been?” to “What happened to the rest of the crew?” to “How on Earth did you get back here?”
“It’s a long story,” Shiro squints, his memory feeling foggy even though his escape only felt around a day ago. “I wish I could explain but,” he’s not sure how to word this, “I was… on an enemy ship? Someone helped me escape…”
Pidge leans in, almost desperate, “Was it someone from the Kerberos mission?”
“No,” Shiro shakes his head as he thinks back, “I think it was… an alien?”
It was strange. The more Shiro tried to recall his escape, the less he remembered. He remembered a purple symbol, glowing in the dim light, but nothing else.
“So are aliens coming,” Hunk seems to be looking around the cave for a place to hide, “Like, will they be here?”
Shiro thinks this is as good of an opportunity as he’ll get before they continue down their reckless flurry of banter and barrage of questions. “Actually, that’s why I’m here,” he begins, “They’re searching for a super weapon called Voltron.”
Again, they all stare at each other with wide eyes, though Shiro doesn’t understand why.
“Is anybody else, like, totally freaking out right now?” Hunk sounds completely mortified.
“Pidge, isn’t Voltron or whatever,” his own voice goes up an octave in fear, “Isn’t it what you said the aliens were talking about?”
Shiro looks to Pidge who has their mouth hung open like a door. “Is this true,” he asks to snap them out of their stupor.
Pidge confirms his worst nightmare. The aliens knew it was here and they would be coming for it. “We have to find it before they do-,” he says with frantic desperation. “It should be around here,” he doesn’t know why he knows that but he does. There’s a fog preventing him from recalling why.
The group of four look around the cave. It was odd, with markings all over the place. Of lions and of people.
“These marking must be ancient,” Pidge murmurs.
A rumble and blue light starts to take over the cave. Someone screams at Lance for touching things and then they’re falling down through water, slipping over rocks and mud until they land in a small pool in a large natural cavern. But before them stands a giant robotic lion.
Things just get crazier from there. The barrier doesn’t open for any of them but Lance. Shiro doesn’t remember what his scores were exactly from the Garrison but he recalls they were… perhaps not the best. The flight afterward slapped that into concrete. They left the atmosphere so fast he wasn’t sure it was possible, and yet here they were in space in less than a few seconds and on the edge of their solar system in under a few minutes.
But before he had time to awe over the aliencraft they were faced with something far more sinister. The Galra ship and how it pursued them until a wormhole saved them. Now he was here.
“I remember now,” Shiro speaks quietly to the Galra beside him, “You helped me get off the ship- you saved me and got me to Earth. You’re Yorak.”
The mention of the name makes the Blade seem to cringe. Shiro wondered if he had an accent when he said it.
The Galra apologizes, “I’m sorry. I’m part of an organization called the Blade of Marmora. We gave you a drug to blur your memories in case you were caught.” He looks down, “We couldn’t risk you spilling everything if they got their hands on you. It would have compromised so many Blades. I hope you understand.”
Honestly he wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but he couldn’t exactly blame them either. If it wasn’t for them, he might still be on that ship on an operating table being experimented on.
“Is Ulaz alive,” he asks with some fear in his stomach.
The Blade turns and he can almost feel his smile through the mask, “He’s alive.”
After that their relationship feels a lot better. Shiro finds himself seeking him out more and more and Yorak finds him too. It’s going well between them even if the Galra seldom spends too much time with the others. Shiro can understand though. Yorak is stoic and rather reserved. Mature. The others were… a little excitable. They were always horsing around or bickering about things, Shiro was sure that was a lot more than Yorak was accustomed to. Not to mention Allura still hadn’t warmed up to him either.
So they spent their free time on the training deck or in the observation room where others rarely bothered them. Shiro would talk about Earth and Yorak would listen intently. He’d talk about the Garrison, about the desert. He told him about Iverson and Commander Holt. He talked about the places he’s been, about their food and movies he’s seen.
“I’ve never seen something like that,” Yorak says.
“You guys don’t have movies,” the idea of it seemed to baffle Shiro.
The Galra shrugs, “We do, but we never watch them. The Galra are militant and don’t spare much free time to entertain themselves with movies or games. The arena is the only form of entertainment-”
Shiro recoils.
“Don’t worry,” Yorak murmurs firmly, “I haven’t been to those either.”
“You haven’t,” Shiro asks in disbelief.
“No,” he shakes his head, “I was born on an outpost for the Blades. I go on missions to help bring down the Galra Empire and that’s it.”
Shiro frowns a bit. He could understand being business oriented. He himself had a hard time focusing on anything other than work. “Then what do you do in your free time,” he asks.
Yorak thinks for a moment, “Sharpen my blade. Train in the hall.” Those were to be expected but the next bit surprised him, “Flying.”
Shiro tilts his head in interest which urges the masked man to continue.
“I’m not supposed to but when I can I like to take a ship out,” Yorak begins, “I’ll find a canyon on a planet or a meteor belt and I’ll fly as fast as I can through it. As fast as I can until I burst into an open space. Sometimes I’ll time myself on the same course.”
“You know on Earth,” mention of the planet already draws Yorak’s attention back on Shiro, “The Garrison has a test that they give potential pilots. Every kid gets to take it. I bet you would’ve blown them all out of the water.”
“What’s the test?”
Shiro grins at him, “Flying through an meteor belt.”
He can’t see it, but he feels him smiling again.
“You two have gotten awfully close,” Allura approaches Shiro within the break room. Or at least it was what they all used as a living room. It had a circular space in the middle with a couch on its outskirts that made it perfect for lounging in.
Shiro takes a moment to understand who she meant though it was obvious, “He’s not a bad person Allura.”
“I don’t trust him.”
He sighs, “Allura-”
“He’s Galra. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t spend time with us. How can we trust him when we know nothing about him.”
She had a point. Shiro knew that but still, he also knew that Yorak was good. He didn’t need to see his face to know that.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Shiro tells her but it’s more of a promise. “He’s Galra but his people have been fighting against Zarkon for thousands of years. He’s loyal to our cause of saving the universe. You should give him a chance.”
“Shiro,” she breathes, “You are the Black Paladin. I trust your judgment. If this is what you truly believe then I will try to be more patient with him. You know him better than all of us after all.” Allura pauses, “I just hope that trust isn’t misplaced.”
Shiro walks with square shoulders. The irritation weighing on him but he refuses to give in to it. He walks straight to Yorak’s room after his failed attempt at finding him in the training room or on the observation deck.
He knocks and waits.
There’s no answer at first and so Shiro knocks again. Still nothing. He’s about to turn away when the door slides open, revealing the masked Marmora agent. Shiro is about to ask when the soft scent of shampoo answers him.
“Sorry, is now a bad time?”
Yorak steps aside to let him in with arms crossed and confusion at the urgency.
Shiro walks in, letting the door close behind him to find an open space to stand in. “Allura doesn’t trust you,” he doesn’t beat around the bush. Yorak didn’t like that anyways.
“I’m aware.”
“Don’t you want her to?”
Yorak’s finger taps against his own arm, not seeing the point in this yet. “She hates the Galra. I understand that. Even if I make an effort she won’t like me,” he explains, “There’s no point in trying to win her over.”
“Then try with the others,” Shiro pleads, “If we’re to be a team, you need to learn to trust them and they need to trust you too.”
“Do you trust me?”
The question stuns Shiro silent.
“Of course I trust you.”
Yorak’s shoulders relax at the confirmation. “Then I’ll try,” he says, “But don’t blame me if it doesn’t work.”
“Don’t give up yet,” Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder and feels the man jump a little before relaxing under the touch, “You never know until you try.”
Shiro understands why the Blade didn’t speak much.
After watching him struggle to understand a joke Lance was making for the fifth time he was starting to feel bad for him and he hadn’t even spoken to them yet.
“Lance!” Pidge yells from her laptop in frustration, “You’ve just been repeating the same joke over and over again! Maybe he’s not laughing for a reason!”
“Are you saying my jokes aren’t funny?” Lance refuses to believe it could be true but Pidge destroys his confidence with a firm ‘obviously’.
The Red Paladin, still donning his Marmora suit moves to sit on the couch near Hunk and Pidge much to their surprise too. Pidge keeps glancing over at him and back to her computer screen and Hunk forces an awkward smile while patting the couch like a dog.
“So…” Hunk tries to initiate conversation, “How old are you?”
Even Shiro was interested in this.
“Twenty-one deca-phoebs.”
There’s a shared silence at finally hearing the man speak. Shiro gave a small and subtle smile of approval that Yorak seems to notice from a short glance in his direction.
“You’re only a year and nine months old? Man, the Galra grow fast-,” Lance squawks from the side.
Pidge rolls her eyes, “He said deca-phoebs, Lance! That’s a year not a month.”
“Oh, so you’re like… twenty-one ish years?” Hunk sounds surprised but then he squints, “Is that like… really old or really young for your people.”
Shiro can tell Yorak is trying to keep his patience with them but the man answers anyways, “My growth rate is roughly the same as a human’s.”
Lance makes a face, “You say that but you’re rather small for a Galra-”
Yorak gives him another hard stare.
“Cram it, Lance!” Pidge barks at him.
“What! It’s the truth!”
Shiro stops leaning against the wall to sit down with them and to offer a subtle oasis for Yorak to rely on. “He told me that the Galra have a lot of variation in their species.”
Yorak sighs in some relief at Shiro’s intervention, “The Galra have been conquering planets for thousands of years. They value a pure lineage but it’s not uncommon for there to be mixed breeds.”
“Interesting,” Pidge notes, “Research implies that reproduction between alien species should be impossible in most cases. Galra must be… uh…fertile.”
The group collectively feels a warmth in their cheeks. Even Shiro who would confidently claim he was mostly capable at being an adult by now couldn’t help but give a small glance down the Galra before he realized that he did.
“So-,” Hunk blurts out, “What do you Galra like to eat?”
Everyone sighs. Finally, something safe to talk about.
“Whatever food we find is processed into Food-Goo rations. The result gets modified into a consistent flavor, texture, and color. It’s like your food-goo only it’s purple.”
Hunk looks absolutely insulted. Like he’s about to turn into Gordon Ramsay and shut down some underperforming kitchens.
“That’s all you’ve eaten,” he asks in shock, “For twenty-something deca-phoebs?”
Yorak pauses with some confusion, “...Yes?”
“Oh, we are fixing that today!” Hunk shuffles off from the couch with newly found fury. “Today you will dine upon the finest of meals! You will taste the rainbow of culinary pillars!”
“Uh-”
Hunk crushes the small Galra in his arms, tears brimming in his eyes, “Shush. It’s okay now, I’ve got you buddy. You’ll never eat a spoonful of goo ever again.” He lets go and flexes an arm, “TO THE KITCHEN.”
They watch Hunk go, and look back at Yorak with questioning eyes.
“So the name’s ‘Yorak’, huh?” Lance rubs his chin, squinting at the Galra. The rest of them stare at Lance, already feeling that he will, without a doubt, ask something stupid. “You hook up with any hot alien babes,” he asks with a smirk and a raised brow.
Shiro feels a wheeze take hold of him, “Lance McClain!”
“What! We’re all guys here-,” he argues back. Pidge shifts awkwardly beside him.
“Still-,” Shiro starts again.
“No,” Yorak answers firmly, “I’m not interested.”
The group pauses, blinking. “You’re not,” Lance asks, “Then uh…” He glances at Shiro who seems to be holding his breath. “How about… guys,” he asks and then hurries to defend himself in case he’s just seriously insulted the killing machine next to him, “I don’t know about your planet but that’s totally normal on Earth! Guys liking other guys I mean!”
“I don’t know,” Yorak admits. “I’ve never thought about it or cared.”
Pidge is the one that perks up this time, “That’s also normal!” She shoves Lance out of the way, “Romance is pointless anyways- move it Lance- there’s nothing wrong with not caring about it.”
“Hm,” Yorak seems to consider this for a minute.
“Sorry Shiro,” Lance sighs, slapping the Champion on the shoulder.
Shiro shifted, eyes glancing from person to person, “What for-”
“No need to play dumb, everyone- well I mean, everyone from my year or older knows about,” he makes a face, “You-know-who…”
“And what does that have to do with this?”
“It’s been a while,” Lance gives him a look that Shiro does not seem pleased by, “So I thought--”
“Lance,” Shiro warns, “That’s none of your business. I don’t want to hear you talking about this or that ever again. Understand me?” The Black Paladin sighs and stands, giving Lance one last look before exiting the room.
Lance wilted but Pidge shakes her head at him, “You deserved that.”
“I think I’ll go too,” Yorak says quietly before leaving as well.
Yorak finds Shiro on the observation deck, staring at all the stars in the distance through the large span of the window. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Shiro hears him come because of the door but it concerns him that the older man doesn’t turn to see him.
“They seem to have warmed up nicely,” Shiro starts.
Silence answers him and Shiro starts to dread this conversation. He wasn’t fooling him by talking about the kids. He wasn’t even fooling himself. It was obvious that something bothered him, and Yorak wasn’t going to accept his excuses. Nor was he going to force it out of him. The other just stood behind him, watching while the stars slipped by, lights shifting as they passed suns and planets.
“Remember what you asked me,” Shiro turns to glance at him. After Yorak doesn’t answer he goes on, “About if I was excited to go home? To Earth?”
The man moves a bit closer to stand next to Shiro and he continues.
“I told you I didn’t know. You see… I was seeing someone back on Earth. Before the Kerberos mission- the mission I was on when the Galra took me. I had… known him for years. We’d been flight partners for a while. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. I thought about marrying him someday.”
Yorak watches him. They’d spoken about a lot but not about something so personal. Shiro wasn’t sure if he should say anything more but then a warm hand pressed against his back. He was surprised at first. Yorak never initiated contact like this but it was gentle, supporting. Shiro took a deep breath and continued.
“But before the mission, when I told him I’d be going…” Shiro shakes his head in anguish, “We fought about it. It wasn’t the first time we fought… we fought a lot actually. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. I’m spontaneous. I always feel like I’m racing against the clock to make something of myself- and he hated that. He didn’t want me going out on missions, exploring space, fulfilling my dreams.” Shiro’s hands grip the railing in front of the window, knuckles white at the memory. “I understood why,” he says, “But I didn’t like it. If I went on the mission he threatened that he wouldn’t wait for me to come back.”
He looks down at the silent man next to him, sighs and straightens up, “Anyways. We didn’t part on the best of terms. I don’t know if he’s still waiting for me or not. I don’t even know how long this war will last or if I’ll ever see him again. They announced me dead after communications were cut. I’m sure he’s moved on, or at least tried to. But if he was waiting for me, I’d feel… wrong moving on without telling him first.”
“You chose right,” Yorak promises.
Shiro blinks, brown eyes searching the man’s mask. He wish he could see his face.
“You chose right.”
“But I-,” Shiro frowns.
“You did what you felt was right,” he replies with such conviction Shiro is stunned, “And because of that you’re here now. Without you the Blue Lion would have been lost. There would be none of the other lions. Someone else in your place would have gotten abducted by the Galra and who knows if they would have survived like you did. You’re the pilot of the Black Lion. You were chosen to be here for a reason and you’re meant to do so much more than sitting on Earth dreaming of the stars. You chose right, Shiro. Don’t regret it over a man who couldn’t see that.”
The warmth of Yorak’s hand slips away but it left its print on him. Shiro felt it there still even as the man pulled away and left him on the observation deck, alone with the stars again.
Keith returned to his bedroom. Before he could enter he noticed a plate in the way, covered in a cloche. He lifted it from the ground, glancing around. Whatever it was, it smelled good. This must be from Hunk.
He brings it inside and carefully sets it on the bed. It was the only suitable surface in the room unless he wanted to eat on the floor. The room was rather empty. Maybe he should get a desk but it didn’t suit him. He wouldn’t be staying here long anyways, he told himself.
This was only temporary.
When he came here he only brought the clothes on his back, and since then little had changed. Just him, his clothes, his knife, and a communicator to contact his mom and the other Blades. There was no need for other furnishings or luxuries. He’d be gone as soon as the war was over.
Or until he wasn’t needed anymore.
Keith uncovers the food and warm air meets his face to tease his senses. He wasn’t sure what this was but it looked- and smelled, delicious. He settles into his bed, plate nestled safely on top of his thighs and takes out his com to make a call.
They had a certain process for this. One side would send a request and would have to wait for a response. Colors meant different things on the com. Green meant ‘Call whenever’. Yellow meant ‘Request seen’. That usually meant they were currently on a mission or in an unsafe place but would get back to you later when they could. Red meant ‘Danger’. If they sent a red color it meant they had been compromised and contact would be lost indefinitely. Purple was reserved for special things like mission reports or orders. They were more urgent than green.
Waiting for a color response was always anxiety wracking. You never know when something will go wrong, and until you get the clear, it’s never certain.
Keith finally receives an answer. The light on his com glows a soft green and he starts the call while he retracts his mask to eat.
“It’s good to see you,” Krolia says. She looks like she’s on a Galra base judging by the architecture in the background.
“It’s been a while,” Keith bites into the meaty substance. It was good. “I wanted to check in with you.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re not in a prison cell,” she comments on the food, “Or being starved.”
“Hunk made this for me,” he says with some fondness that his mother doesn’t miss.
She raises a brow, “The cowardly one.”
“That’s the one,” he confirms. “He’s great at cooking, and friendly.”
“I’m glad to see you getting along with them finally.”
Keith chews on his food quietly in thought but it’s too quiet. Normally they don’t waste time when they’re on the phone.
“What’s wrong,” Krolia asks, “Is that Altean being rude to you-”
“No-, no… She’s not the problem.” Keith takes a breath, “I was just… thinking about dad.”
Krolia settles back, relaxing now.
“You loved him, right?”
“Of course,” she murmurs, “He was a good man.”
“What did you like about him?”
Her eyes flicker back to the screen, on Keith who had slowly stopped eating his food to wait for a response.
“I don’t know,” she admits and Keith’s shoulders fall in disappointment. “It’s hard to explain,” Krolia adds, “He wasn’t afraid of me. I was the first alien he’d ever seen but he didn’t care. He helped me even if I put a knife to his neck. He was brave. And kind.” Her voice grows softer, “I didn’t know what love felt like until I met your father. I wish we could have stayed with him.”
They share a solemn silence one in memory and one in yearning.
“I haven’t told them yet,” Keith tells his mother.
“You don’t trust them yet?”
“I trust one. Shiro,” he clarifies, “But I just don’t feel like it’s the right time.”
“Then don’t. Do it when it feels right.”
“I also told them my name is Yorak.”
Krolia bursts into quiet laughter and Keith does too and together they talk throughout the night, sharing thoughts and secrets no one else knew.
Shiro couldn’t sleep. His mind was filled with thoughts of Earth, with thoughts of that evening with Yorak and of Adam. He was right. Everything had been leading up to now. He had other things to worry about than if a guy who broke up with him was still waiting around for him. The universe was far more important than that.
Maybe some exercise would help.
He peeled himself from his bed and made his way down abandoned halls towards the training deck. The castle was far too big for how few of them there were here on the ship. And yet there was another presence lingering in the sparring room. Shiro could recognize them easily even with the light pouring out of the room blinding him.
“You’re awake,” he greets the young Blade member.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he asks back, dismissing the program to take a break.
Shiro eyes the drone and the other man, “No. Too much on my mind. You?”
“Same as you.”
“Well I was going to exercise,” Shiro steps out onto the open floor, stretching his muscles, “But since you’re here how about a go at me?”
Yorak stares, expression unreadable through the mask. Eventually the man walks back onto the floor stance lowered.
So that was a ‘yes’.
Shiro lunges first. His metal fist goes flying past a rippling hood while Yorak’s slender hands and body maneuver around him in ease. He was fast. Shiro knew that. But he was fast too and bigger than he was. They exchange a few light blows to each other, twisting and blocking, side-stepping and restreating.
Who knew how much time passed but they both stood out of breath, hearts pumping and skin on fire with no intention of stopping.
Yorak was good. Shiro was good too. It wasn’t anything he was proud of or liked to think about, but being in the arena made him strong but the Galra was managing to keep up with him without too much trouble.
But if there was one thing he had the advantage on, it was weight.
When the two charged each other again they locked together. Yorak tried to hold his ground but their legs and feet were tangled. This was his chance. Shiro pulled his feet out from under him and the two fell to the floor, their bodies pressed together in exhaustion and from gravity.
Yorak made a move with his free hand but it’s caught in Shiro’s fist and forced to the ground.
He won. He should feel accomplished. At first he does but it’s been a long time since he’d felt the body heat of another person like this- in a way that wasn’t filled with anger or fear from fighting for his life.
Shiro was suddenly hyper-aware of the long legs wrapped around his thighs, still tangled together. His knee pressing between the other man’s legs, nestled up against-- Shiro felt his pulse quicken and he moves to pull away. Yorak had other plans. That moment of distraction gave him an opening and he snatched it back. Shiro’s back slammed into the cold tile, eyes wide in surprise and jaw hanging. Now the Galra was straddling him and pinning Shiro’s hands above his head.
This was even worse.
“I didn’t yield yet,” the Galra whispers.
Shiro fights to swallow whatever emotion this was rising up. The man on top of him shifts and-- never mind. Scratch that. He knew exactly what was rising up and he needed to leave.
“I yield,” Shiro blurts out so Yorak can release him. The man does but he stares quizzically at him. Shiro can’t blame him. He is acting odd. Feeling odd. He should feel ashamed of himself. The man jumps to his feet and starts heading out, “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning-”
Yorak doesn’t even have time to say anything. The man is just gone.
Shiro bursts into his room, leaning against the door with a big breath. What was wrong with him? He was just preaching about how he wouldn’t feel right moving on from Adam yet and here he was getting hard over someone he didn’t even know the face of!
He makes his way over to the bathroom and starts stripping down to get in but his thoughts were still running rampant.
It really had been a while. Since the prosthetic he hadn’t bothered to do it as often. Not that Yorak had an unattractive body or anything- well not that he could really judge. He’d never seen the man naked before. His thoughts drift.
Not that he really had to though. Yorak was obviously fit even if he was on the lean side. Shiro had eyes and he’d seen the shape of his thighs. Not to mention his waist. He could probably touch his thumbs together if he wrapped them around his stomach. Shiro imagines it for a moment and when he realizes what he’s doing he scrubs his face with cold water in a desperate attempt to scrub away the thought as well.
But it haunted him all the way to bed. Shiro glared at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep instead of thinking about how pent up he was. Yet every time he shut his eyes he found himself wondering what was under the mask, under the clothes.
What if he was furry? Shiro frowned. That was a weird thought. The furry ones had those cat-like ears. What about his mouth? Was it jagged and beak-like similar to a turtle’s? Some of them had mouths like that. Lipless. Shiro grimaced. He tossed in bed to rid the idea. As far as he could tell, Yorak didn’t have a tail. That was perhaps the most disappointing part in all of this. At least with a tail he could have some fun-
Shiro sits up to slap himself in the face a few times and groans into his hand. Stop thinking about it. Get some damn sleep.
He didn’t get any damn sleep.
Shiro eats his breakfast, some improvised version of pancakes, eggs, and bacon made graciously by Hunk, with dry eyes and a slight headache. He hadn’t seen Yorak yet and that was a plus for once.
“I think he liked my food,” Hunk sits down with a wide and proud grin at the table with his own plate. It was stacked high with layers of pink pancakes covered in some kind of alien fruit and a white frosting drizzle.
“You’re the best chef I’ve ever known,” Lance compliments as he crunches on a piece of bacon, “If he didn’t like your food then we’d know he’s a robot.”
“He’s not a robot,” Shiro cuts into his pancakes, shoving a generous portion in his mouth. Thank god for Hunk to be honest.
Pidge shovels some eggs in her mouth, hair still a mess from sleeping. “That’s a shame,” she says between chewing and yawning, “Robots are way better than humans.”
Lance speaks up again, “So if he’s not a robot, what do you think he looks like--”
Shiro chokes. He coughs up a chunk of half-chewed pancake into a napkin and everyone stares at him with curious eyes. He waves a hand to dismiss them.
“Do you think he has cat ears,” Hunk asks, joining in on the fun while he digs into his food.
“He probably has purple skin--,” Pidge’s eyes widen, “Or purple fur!”
They all laugh, arguing over what Galra features the Red Paladin had up until the man himself walked in and they all quieted down but kept their eyes glued to him, hungry with curiosity.
Yorak glanced between them and Shiro wondered if he heard what they were talking about. Then his head turned towards him and Shiro felt guilt punch him in the stomach. He looked away towards his food, shoveling in what he could in under a few seconds so he could dump his plate in the sink and leave.
The Galra watches him leave but it doesn’t seem that was his objective since he approaches Hunk with a clean plate.
The Yellow Paladin stares with wide eyes before he jumps up from his seat. “You want breakfast,” he guesses with a huge grin before running off with his plate to fetch him something to eat. “Bon appétit, my friend.”
Friend.
Hunk really was a sweet boy. Yorak takes the plate but hesitates to sit at the table. He feels everyone’s eyes on him, very specifically his face.
“You, uh,” Hunk starts, “You’re always welcome to eat with us, y’know. Unless you don’t want to! That’s cool too-”
A very sweet boy.
Yorak shakes his head, “I’ll eat in my room today. Thank you for the food.”
“No problem, buddy.”
Yorak retreats to the safety of his room to eat his food. It was sweet- not too sweet, but it was different than what he was used to. It was good. If he hadn’t met Shiro first perhaps he’d be his favorite. The thought gnawed at him though. Last night- and this morning too. It felt like he had ran away from him.
He hoped that wasn’t the case.
Maybe it was the case.
It had been days and Yorak hadn’t had a decent conversation with him since the night on the observation deck. He felt his agitation rising every time the man darted away with some random excuse or looked away from him.
It finally reached a point where everyone else had picked up on it too. How could they not when he went to spending all his time with Shiro one day to hardly seeing Shiro for the days to come.
“Hey, uh, is everything fine between you two,” Hunk asks hesitantly.
Lance and Pidge look over, clearly interested in whatever drama was happening.
“Everything is fine,” Yorak grits out.
The other three share a glance and decide to stay out of this for now.
Yorak had other ideas. He was tired of Shiro avoiding him for no reason at all. He storms down the hall towards the man’s room, fist beating against the door rather than politely knocking. When it opens he swears Shiro’s eyes were going to fall out. Yorak sees his hand move like he’s about to shut the door on him and he acts fast, pushing into the room and blocking Shiro from leaving.
“Yorak-,” he starts in a small panic.
“If you have something to say to me then say it.”
Shiro mentally kicks himself in the shin but he takes too long to answer and the Galra is livid.
“Why are you avoiding me,” he demands, “We’re both adults. If I’ve done something to piss you off or to bother you then at least have the decency to say it to my face instead of running at the sight of me.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he offers gently.
“Then what is it?”
Shiro’s jaw clenches in reluctance to answer the other man.
“Is it because you got hard when we were sparring?”
God, not again! Shiro doesn’t have pancakes to choke on, but he does gasp so hard he chokes on his own spit. He spends the next few minutes coughing.
“Yorak, I can explain-”
“Isn’t that normal,” he asks, “It’s not like you have any control over it.” Yorak couldn’t count how many times sparring led to… issues.
Shiro really wished it were that simple but it didn’t feel right hiding it either.
“I jerked off to you-,” Shiro blurts and immediately regrets it because Yorak freezes in place. This was one of the worst things he could say to someone he couldn’t even see the face of. The silence was killing him. Was it bad that he actually wished the Galra would attack right now? Just save him from this whole mess? That’d be great.
You’d think that by now he’d learn to be careful of what he wished for.